Galaxies Apart
Twenty-Four
The Bakuran system was filled with starships. Madine had watched them vector in, one after the other, for the past three days and they showed no signs of stopping. His unease at this whole venture went along the same lines. He'd known the Ssi-ruuk had extensive resources in their sectors, but-
This wasn't the 'significant support' that the aliens had promised the Rebellion. This was nothing short of an Armada.
He estimated over one hundred and thirty Star Destroyer-equivalent vessels, not to mention the four even larger ships – Ssi-Ruuk equivalents to Super Star Destroyers. If this was only their invasion force…then the Empire had been seriously underestimating the threat these beings posed.
Eight months ago a fair-sized Imperial 'scouting' (read: conquest) mission, including eight Star Destroyers, had been utterly annihilated after 'scouting' too close to a Ssi-Ruuk colony world. With the taste for victory over the galaxy's greatest power firmly scented, the Ssi-ruuk were ready to hurt the Empire once again.
The question was, were they prepared to keep to the terms of the alliance they had signed?
Madine patted his console. If they decided against it…the Alderaan would quickly demonstrate that even an armada of capital ships were no match for the sheer power of a Death Star's superlaser. In fact, he almost hoped they would. If those rumours were true about entechment…he'd see to it personally not a single Ssi-Ruuk ship was left intact.
The Empire were bad enough, yes, they could treat people like slaves to the Imperial machine, but at least they didn't consume them for a few weeks worth of power.
Whatever his misgivings, the Rebel Alliance had found a valuable ally in the Ssi-ruuk. Like it or not, they would be attacking the Empire at Endor together. Madine found it all to easy to visualise the Alderaan and its flanking guard of Ssi-ruuk cruisers blasting their way to a crushing victory.
What happened after…well, they'd just have to wait and see.
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"What is this place?" Luke said wonderingly, as the Privateer swept around the huge structure.
In his youth he'd liked nothing more than to watch Biggs' holoprojections of ship and orbital designs. He'd never seen anything even remotely like this. Never felt anywhere like this.
The space around him seethed with the Force.
"Magnificent."
With a start Luke realised that the word had originated from Mara Jade. Such was the visual impact that it had drawn a reaction from the Ice Queen. No greater tribute.
"Master?" he turned to Yoda, who had remained silent.
"Closer, take us," Yoda eventually spoke. He gaze swept to Luke. "Feel it, do you?" he asked softly. "To miss it would be hard."
Luke's spine chilled at the tone Yoda used. "Feel what, Master?"
Yoda tapped the transparisteel cockpit window, pointing with a gnarled finger to the space station.
"A place of death, this is."
The Privateer swooped toward the docking hatch.
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Ston padded stealthily down the long, long corridor toward the Throne Room. It was deep into the night. Seldom, however, did the ruler of the Empire actually sleep in his chambers.
Ston could make out his silhouette now, as he drew closer to the Imperial throne, highlighted against the flicker of the huge candles the Emperor had imported from some backwater planet or other. They apparently improved his concentration when, as he was doing now, he was deeply immersed in meditation.
He stopped at the foot of the steps to the throne. At times like this Palpatine seemed so old and vulnerable, simply resting on a throne with his regal gowns crumpled and strewn about him. It would be easy to imagine why some had underestimated the man behind that hood.
Ston had never, ever been in any danger of making that mistake.
Ordinarily he wouldn't dare to do what he was about to do now. However, the Emperor himself had told him what to do in this situation.
"Sir?" he called, tremulously.
When no response was forthcoming, he winced and raised his voice ten decibels or so. "Sir?"
This time he had sufficient volume. Palpatine's eyes snapped open and his attention focussed on Ston and only Ston.
"He has contacted?" the Emperor demanded. Ston nodded.
Mere months after the victory at Yavin IV, the Imperial Palace had received the first message from an individual who referred to himself as the Prophet. It had listed five Imperial governors, and provided long and detailed accounts of their Rebel sympathies. Prophet demanded their immediate execution, but provided no real, concrete evidence Palpatine could use to convict the supposed traitors.
He'd had them killed anyway, if for no other purpose than to increase the likelihood that Prophet would transmit another message.
The Emperor was intrigued by this enigmatic benefactor. A few weeks later, Prophet transmitted the locations of over twenty hidden Alliance bases; he was correct in every single one of them, and they had been summarily destroyed.
Curious both as to how one individual was privy to so much quality intelligence, and how he was succeeding in keeping the source of his data blasts so well cloaked, Palpatine persuaded his best technicians to work on the quandary.
His technicians eventually gave him the ability to send a reply along the transmission line for the few fractions of a second it would remain open. In this message he made it clear to Prophet that he had no liking for unknowns, whatever their sympathies. He had demanded face-to-face communication.
These came rarely but when they came, they were strange things indeed. Although Prophet kept his features concealed, much as the Emperor was fond of doing, he could do nothing to disguise his obvious status as a Jedi. And a powerful one – he was able to turn aside the most potent of Palpatine's mind probes with little apparent difficulty.
He refused point-blank to answer most of the questions snapped at him, and spoke only to impart information.
Only when the proton inhibitor had been uncovered had Palpatine finally discovered the most likely source of Prophet's abilities. He was a time traveller. Perhaps the same time traveller that had so kindly deposited the inhibitor aboard the Death Star in the first place.
The question remained, though; what was he going to do with Prophet?
When he had sent Mara Jade to Dagobah, he had made use of Vader's long-standing relationship with the race of assassins, the Noghri. Seventeen Noghri teams had been quickly and quietly dispatched on separate leads to locate the person known only as Prophet.
With three years of back transmissions to work from, Imperial scientists had gingerly pinpointed a region of space from which, they had estimated, the signals were coming from.
He'd heard nothing thus far.
"Patch him through," Palpatine said, and sat back on his throne.
His personal hologrid flickered as Ston went through the necessary procedures to link the signal. Eventually it settled upon the head and shoulders of a man, steeped in shadow to obscure his identity.
"You are connected," Ston gabbled. He stepped hurriedly out of the conversation area.
Prophet was the first to speak. He tilted his head, shadows still casting most of it in darkness. "Master. I have information for you."
"What terrible fate befalls the Empire?"
"This warning concerns you."
Ston took a step back.
"Is that so," the Emperor replied softly, dangerously.
"I have learned you have chosen to hold Victory Day in the Endor system."
"It is hardly a secret."
"The Endor system is not suitable. It bodes nothing but disaster for the Empire."
"You refer," the Emperor responded, almost lazily, "no doubt, to the Alliance's capture of the Death Star and their surprise attack on our massed forces."
"You do not understand the scale of the danger, Master. The Rebellion has forged an alliance with-"
"The Ssi-ruuk Imperium? Yes, I know," the Emperor shrugged off the information casually. "My spies have told me as much. Preparations have been made."
That was a lie. Prophet wouldn't know that, of course. A lot was resting on the Empire's defeat at Endor.
"Are you planning to go to Endor?"
"Of course. Anything else would be bad form."
Another lie. Wild Rancors couldn't have dragged him within a sector of Endor.
"You must not travel to Endor."
Palpatine made a show of considering this. "In light of the accuracy of your previous statements…perhaps it is time to make an exception."
"A wise choice, Master."
"Perhaps if the threat of danger is so strong," Palpatine continued, "I should also recall the Lord Vader-"
There.
He had it. He had it.
At the mention of Vader, a flash of emotions crossed that impenetrable mind. Palpatine was able to identify the strongest emotion in that mix instantly.
Hatred.
"Reveal your identity and location to me."
"I cannot, at this time," Prophet replied. "Do not ask me again."
"Remember to whom you speak," the Emperor spat back angrily.
"You would do well to do the same, Master," Prophet replied. "But for me, the Alliance would have-"
"-destroyed the Death Star?"
The Jedi reared back, as if shot. His defences crumbled as the impact of Palpatine's statement hit home. "It was you, wasn't it," the Emperor purred comfortingly, his gaze unwavering. "Who went back - who will go back - and changed the events of Yavin IV. The proton inhibitor was yours."
"So. You know the truth."
"I am not so foolish as you would seem to believe. Do not mistake me for a fool again," the Emperor said, putting as much warning into his words as he could.
"I did not think you would believe it."
"I believe you have power beyond what Jedi have dreamed of. To change history – to unwrite destiny. It is a power higher than the Force itself."
Prophet was no fool, either. "You want that power."
"I want to dispense with these games. Come to me. We have much to discuss."
"I cannot. You don't understand."
Palpatine hissed in frustration and anger. "Then stop wasting my time feeding me with scraps. Tell me. Tell me the history of your galaxy."
Prophet considered this, and nodded.
"Let's start with Vader…" he said.